Dead Souls
plains to human feet, is, rather, on the gigantic scale; these features,
I say, were those of the identical maiden whom Chichikov had encountered
on the road when he had been fleeing from Nozdrev’s. His emotion was
such that he could not formulate a single intelligible syllable; he
could merely murmur the devil only knows what, though certainly
nothing of the kind which would have risen to the lips of the hero of a
fashionable novel.
“I think that you have not met my daughter before?” said Madame. “She is
just fresh from school.”
He replied that he HAD had the happiness of meeting Mademoiselle before,
and under rather unexpected circumstances; but on his trying to say
something further his tongue completely failed him. The Governor’s wife
added a word or two, and then carried off her daughter to speak to some
of the other guests.
Chichikov stood rooted to the spot, like a man who, after issuing
into the street for a pleasant walk, has suddenly come to a halt on
remembering that something has been left behind him. In a moment, as
he struggles to recall what that something is, the mien of careless
expectancy disappears from his face, and he no longer sees a single
person or a single object in his vicinity. In the same way did Chichikov
suddenly become oblivious to the scene around him. Yet all the while the
melodious tongues of ladies were plying him with multitudinous hints
and questions--hints and questions inspired with a desire to captivate.
“Might we poor cumberers of the ground make so bold as to ask you what
you are thinking of?” “Pray tell us where lie the happy regions in which
your thoughts are wandering?” “Might we be informed of the name of her
who has plunged you into this sweet abandonment of meditation?”--such
were the phrases thrown at him. But to everything he turned a dead ear,
and the phrases in question might as well have been stones dropped into
a pool. Indeed, his rudeness soon reached the pitch of his walking
away altogether, in order that he might go and reconnoitre wither the
Governor’s wife and daughter had retreated. But the ladies were not
going to let him off so easily. Every one of them had made up her mind
to use upon him her every weapon, and to exhibit whatsoever might chance
to constitute her best point. Yet the ladies’ wiles proved useless, for
Chichikov paid not the smallest attention to them, even when the dancing
had begun, but kept raising himself on tiptoe to peer over people’s
heads and ascertain in which direction the bewitching maiden with the
golden hair had gone. Also, when seated, he continued to peep between
his neighbours’ backs and shoulders, until at last he discovered her
sitting beside her mother, who was wearing a sort of Oriental turban and
feather. Upon that one would have thought that his purpose was to carry
the position by storm; for, whether moved by the influence of spring,
or whether moved by a push from behind, he pressed forward with such
desperate resolution that his elbow caused the Commissioner of Taxes
to stagger on his feet, and would have caused him to lose his balance
altogether but for the supporting row of guests in the rear. Likewise
the Postmaster was made to give ground; whereupon he turned and eyed
Chichikov with mingled astonishment and subtle irony. But Chichikov
never even noticed him; he saw in the distance only the golden-haired
beauty. At that moment she was drawing on a long glove and, doubtless,
pining to be flying over the dancing-floor, where, with clicking heels,
four couples had now begun to thread the mazes of the mazurka. In
particular was a military staff-captain working body and soul and
arms and legs to compass such a series of steps as were never before
performed, even in a dream. However, Chichikov slipped past the mazurka
dancers, and, almost treading on their heels, made his way towards the
spot where Madame and her daughter were seated. Yet he approached them
with great diffidence and none of his late mincing and prancing. Nay,
he even faltered as he walked; his every movement had about it an air of
awkwardness.
It is difficult to say whether or not the feeling which had awakened
in our hero’s breast was the feeling of love; for it is problematical
whether or not men who are neither stout nor thin are capable of any
such sentiment. Nevertheless, something strange, something which he
could not altogether explain, had come upon him. It seemed as though
the ball, with its talk and its clatter, had suddenly become a thing
remote--that the orchestra had withdrawn behind a hill, and the scene
grown misty, like the carelessly painted-in background of a picture. And
from that misty void there could be seen glimmering only the delicate
outlines of the bewitching maiden. Somehow her exquisite shape reminded
him of an ivory toy, in such fair, white, transparent relief did it
stand out against the dull blur of the surrounding throng.
Herein we see a phenomenon not infrequently observed--the phenomenon of
the Chichikovs of this world becoming temporarily poets. At all events,
for a moment or two our Chichikov felt that he was a young man again, if
not exactly a military officer. On perceiving an empty chair beside the
mother and daughter, he hastened to occupy it, and though conversation
at first hung fire, things gradually improved, and he acquired more
confidence.
At this point I must reluctantly deviate to say that men of weight and
high office are always a trifle ponderous when conversing with ladies.
Young lieutenants--or, at all events, officers not above the rank of
captain--are far more successful at the game. How they contrive to be so
God only knows. Let them but make the most inane of remarks, and at once
the maiden by their side will be rocking with laughter; whereas, should
a State Councillor enter into conversation with a damsel, and remark
that the Russian Empire is one of vast extent, or utter a compliment
which he has elaborated not without a certain measure of intelligence
(however strongly the said compliment may smack of a book), of a surety
the thing will fall flat. Even a witticism from him will be laughed at
far more by him himself than it will by the lady who may happen to be
listening to his remarks.
These comments I have interposed for the purpose of explaining to the
reader why, as our hero conversed, the maiden began to yawn. Blind to
this, however, he continued to relate to her sundry adventures which had
befallen him in different parts of the world. Meanwhile (as need hardly
be said) the rest of the ladies had taken umbrage at his behaviour. One
of them purposely stalked past him to intimate to him the fact, as well
as to jostle the Governor’s daughter, and let the flying end of a scarf
flick her face; while from a lady seated behind the pair came both a
whiff of violets and a very venomous and sarcastic remark. Nevertheless,
either he did not hear the remark or he PRETENDED not to hear it. This
was unwise of him, since it never does to disregard ladies’ opinions.
Later--but too late--he was destined to learn this to his cost.
In short, dissatisfaction began to display itself on every feminine
face. No matter how high Chichikov might stand in society, and no matter
how much he might be a millionaire and include in his expression of
countenance an indefinable element of grandness and martial ardour,
there are certain things which no lady will pardon, whosoever be the
person concerned. We know that at Governor’s balls it is customary for
the onlookers to compose verses at the expense of the dancers; and in
this case the verses were directed to Chichikov’s address. Briefly, the
prevailing dissatisfaction grew until a tacit edict of proscription had
been issued against both him and the poor young maiden.
But an even more unpleasant surprise was in store for our hero; for
whilst the young lady was still yawning as Chichikov recounted to her
certain of his past adventures and also touched lightly upon the subject
of Greek philosophy, there appeared from an adjoining room the figure of
Nozdrev. Whether he had come from the buffet, or whether he had issued
from a little green retreat where a game more strenuous than whist had
been in progress, or whether he had left the latter resort unaided, or
whether he had been expelled therefrom, is unknown; but at all events
when he entered the ballroom, he was in an elevated condition, and
leading by the arm the Public Prosecutor, whom he seemed to have been
dragging about for a long while past, seeing that the poor man was
glancing from side to side as though seeking a means of putting an end
to this personally conducted tour. Certainly he must have found the
situation almost unbearable, in view of the fact that, after deriving
inspiration from two glasses of tea not wholly undiluted with rum,
Nozdrev was engaged in lying unmercifully. On sighting him in the
distance, Chichikov at once decided to sacrifice himself. That is to
say, he decided to vacate his present enviable position and make off
with all possible speed, since he could see that an encounter with the
newcomer would do him no good. Unfortunately at that moment the Governor
buttonholed him with a request that he would come and act as arbiter
between him (the Governor) and two ladies--the subject of dispute
being the question as to whether or not woman’s love is lasting.
Simultaneously Nozdrev descried our hero and bore down upon him.
“Ah, my fine landowner of Kherson!” he cried with a smile which set his
fresh, spring-rose-pink cheeks a-quiver. “Have you been doing much
trade in departed souls lately?” With that he turned to the Governor. “I
suppose your Excellency knows that this man traffics in dead peasants?”
he bawled. “Look here, Chichikov. I tell you in the most friendly
way possible that every one here likes you--yes, including even the
Governor. Nevertheless, had I my way, I would hang you! Yes, by God I
would!”
Chichikov’s discomfiture was complete.
“And, would you believe it, your Excellency,” went on Nozdrev, “but this
fellow actually said to me, ‘Sell me your dead souls!’ Why, I laughed
till I nearly became as dead as the souls. And, behold, no sooner do
I arrive here than I am told that he has bought three million roubles’
worth of peasants for transferment! For transferment, indeed! And he
wanted to bargain with me for my DEAD ones! Look here, Chichikov. You
are a swine! Yes, by God, you are an utter swine! Is not that so, your
Excellency? Is not that so, friend Prokurator [34]?”
But both his Excellency, the Public Prosecutor, and Chichikov were too
taken aback to reply. The half-tipsy Nozdrev, without noticing them,
continued his harangue as before.
“Ah, my fine sir!” he cried. “THIS time I don’t mean to let you go. No,
not until I have learnt what all this purchasing of dead peasants means.
Look here. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Yes, _I_ say that--_I_
who am one of your best friends.” Here he turned to the Governor
again. “Your Excellency,” he continued, “you would never believe what
inseperables this man and I have been. Indeed, if you had stood there
and said to me, ‘Nozdrev, tell me on your honour which of the two you
love best--your father or Chichikov?’ I should have replied, ‘Chichikov,
by God!’” With that he tackled our hero again, “Come, come, my friend!”
he urged. “Let me imprint upon your cheeks a baiser or two. You will
excuse me if I kiss him, will you not, your Excellency? No, do not
resist me, Chichikov, but allow me to imprint at least one baiser upon
your lily-white cheek.” And in his efforts to force upon Chichikov what
he termed his “baisers” he came near to measuring his length upon the
floor.
Every one now edged away, and turned a deaf ear to his further